At this stage, just the sight of Tim Robinson’s face is enough to elicit laughter — a clear indication of his distinctive comedic charisma.

Consider the opening scene of Friendship. The film kicks off with a close-up of Tami (Kate Mara), a cancer survivor, speaking openly in a support group. As the camera withdraws, we spot her husband Craig (Robinson) next to her, his face reflecting a blend of exaggerated focus and uncomfortable intensity. This expression quickly sets the atmosphere. Shortly after, Craig disrupts Tami’s sincere concerns with a socially tone-deaf remark, marking the first of numerous blunders he’ll commit throughout the film.

If that moment gives you a mix of cringe and laughter, you’re already caught in the “Robinson effect.” The mind behind I Think You Should Leave has paved a career out of extracting humor from social awkwardness and anxiety, creating characters that are as eccentric as they are genuine — and frequently loud. Friendship, helmed and penned by Andrew DeYoung, heavily leans into this style of humor, testing how much cringe comedy a viewer can endure.

Devoted Robinson fans will likely discover much to appreciate. However, even for those who enjoy his flair, the film’s initial momentum doesn’t fully hold up. The sketch-like absurdity that excels in brief moments begins to feel tiresome when extended over a full-length film. Friendship prompts the inquiry: Can a sketch-comedy ethos support an entire movie? Regrettably, the answer appears to be no.

What is Friendship about?

At its core, Friendship delves into themes of male solitude and the fragile nature of adult male relationships. Craig, portrayed by Robinson, is a socially withdrawn individual whose evenings are primarily spent in silence in the living room. His wife Tami confronts him about it, leading Craig to defensively retort, “You don’t know my schedule!” — one of many perfectly executed Robinson lines.

Everything shifts when Craig’s neighbor Austin (Paul Rudd) invites him over for a drink. For Austin, it’s a casual invitation. For Craig, it’s a transformative experience. In his imagination, he envisions a future where he becomes a member of Austin’s band, guiding a group of friends through a post-apocalyptic landscape. These fantasy interludes are as comical as they are revealing, illustrating Craig’s intense desire for connection.

Austin exposes Craig to a new realm: they navigate the town’s sewer system, search for mushrooms, and even scale city hall. Austin motivates Craig to explore new interests — put down his phone, purchase a drum set, and embrace improvisation. However, their blossoming friendship takes a downturn after a disastrous group outing with Austin’s other friends. The night concludes with shattered glass, bruised egos, and an unforgettable a cappella performance of Ghost Town DJs’ “My Boo.” Craig is abruptly expelled from Austin’s inner circle, marking the beginning of his downward spiral.

Friendship starts strong, then loses its way

The film’s initial scenes — particularly the awkward yet hopeful beginnings of Craig and Austin’s relationship — shine the brightest. Robinson captures the anxious energy of someone eager for companionship, while Rudd effortlessly embodies the charismatic yet emotionally elusive neighbor. Their dynamic is perfect for comedy and emotion, culminating in the film’s most chaotic and memorable moment: the disastrous group outing.

But when the friendship crumbles, so too does the film’s narrative drive. What ensues is a sequence of loosely linked scenes — a failed meeting with the mayor, a revisited trip to the sewers, a surreal drug experience — that resemble standalone sketches more than parts of a unified story. This fragmented format may be intentional, reflecting Craig’s emotional confusion, but it often comes off more as disjointed than purposeful.

Craig begins to feel less like a fully fleshed-out character and more like a compilation of eccentric moments. He fixates on watching “the new Marvel” movie but is petrified of spoilers. He consumes soap as a means of punishing himself for being a “bad boy.” His life ambition? To finish a novelty meal at a local bar themed after the Navy SEALs who took down Osama Bin Laden. These instances are undoubtedly humorous, especially with Robinson’s characteristic panicked delivery. Yet they provoke a question: Are we laughing because we understand Craig as a character, or because we’re already familiar with Robinson’s comedic persona from past works?

Despite its uneven pacing and sketch-like framework, Friendship provides plenty of laughs — along with a good dose of secondhand embarrassment. But like a guest who lingers too long at a party, it overstays its welcome a little too much, losing the intrigue that made its early moments shine.

Friendship is currently showing in theaters.